


The Shadows of Compromise

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Bargaining, Canon-Typical Violence, Denial of Feelings, Fix-It of Sorts, Friendship, M/M, Missing Scene, Season Finale, mention of Thomas Hamilton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 21:29:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10648431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: It takes Silver a day and a half to get Flint to leave Skeleton Island.





	The Shadows of Compromise

It takes a day and a half.

Silver isn’t sure what he expected. But he had _hoped._ Foolishly, as it seems now. Flint just sits there against the rock with his legs drawn up, hands resting on his knees, watching him with a weary expression. He’s silent, letting it fill the clearing between them until Silver feels like the silence is going to drown him.

Silver’s restless, he can’t help it. He doesn’t let himself sit, so he paces until his leg aches. Flint’s not going to attack him; he knows that much. But he’s not going to go along easily with Silver either. Silver knows that much too.

The afternoon fades slowly into evening and still they wait. Hands comes to check on the situation and Silver sends him away with brusque words. He meant what he said.

_I will stand here with you. For an hour, a day, a year, while you find a way to accept this outcome so that we might leave here together._

He’s not going anywhere until he makes Flint understand why.

Silver hates this fucking island. He hates the way the moss seeps over the trees and cloaks everything like a shroud. He hates the dismal sound of the night birds calling in the dark. He hates that he can hear the faint lapping of the waves on the beach even here amongst the trees, reminding him that time is passing and yet here they still are.

He hates this fucking island and he’ll be glad to sail away from it and never see it again.

 *  *  *

The night passes. Flint sleeps; Silver doesn’t.

When it’s finally dawn, he shifts his weight and realizes he needs to piss. He eyes Flint who has his head tilted back, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in deep even breaths. Silver props his crutch deep into the earth, braces himself, undoes his breeches and pisses into the bushes.

He sighs faintly with relief.

“How’s your leg?”

Silver wobbles and curses as he gets piss on his boot. He scowls as he tucks himself away and faces Flint.

“Don’t.”

Flint raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t act concerned. If you gave a damn for my well-being, you’d have already agreed and we’d be gone from this accursed place.”

Flint just waits.

“It aches.” Silver leans against another boulder, letting his weight slump at last.

Flint just nods to himself. He’s just sitting there, gazing at the ground, mind a million miles away. Silver has to keep him here, to persuade Flint to focus on what the future could be if he would just see a world without this war.

There's a way he's not yet tried. Silver holds a truth inside him, a truth like a knife, sharp and dangerous. The sort of truth that could cut a man straight open and let his heart and guts spill out. The sort of truth that could set him free.

“I asked you once. What you would do if Thomas…”

Flint closes his eyes and Silver trails off. How can he use that knife and wound someone he cares for? How can he run Flint through with the knowledge, even if it’s quick and clean and puts him out of his misery in the end? The time it takes Flint to accept and understand that truth will be the hardest moments in Silver’s existence. And he’s had a long, wretched life.

“I only meant, you said…that you didn’t know what you would have done. You didn’t know that you _wouldn’t_ have done the same as me.” His voice cracks and he looks away quickly as Flint looks at him.

“Yes. I said that.” Flint’s eyes have grown even more weary.

Silver takes a breath. “What if you could be with him again?”

Flint’s laugh is dark and hollow and Silver realizes belatedly he could have said that better. His tongue has failed him this time.

“I meant to phrase that differently.”

“I thought that was the intention.” Flint nods to the pistol. “Reuniting me with the other ghosts of our past.”

“That’s not what I want.” Silver grinds out. God, he’s exhausted. He wants this all to be done and Flint won’t fucking budge. How can he just sit there and do this? Why couldn’t he understand that this is what’s necessary? That Silver has no other choice than this?

“I want to.” He licks his lips and sighs. It’s early. The sun is light overhead. At the back of his mind he’s aware that he’s hungry. He’s thirsty as well. He wants to see Madi. But he can’t do that until he makes Flint understand. Nothing can move forward from this point until that happens. The world feels very small in this moment to Silver's way of thinking. There's only him and Flint in this clearing.

“What did you want?”

“What?” He looks at Flint.

“You said this wasn’t what you wanted. So how did you envision this playing out? Did you think I would just agree?”

“No.” Silver says. “But I thought, that what I wanted would supersede your desire for endless war.”

Flint’s eyes gleam. “So tell me then, what is it that you want?”

“I want to give you your heart’s desire.” Silver says readily.

Flint blinks. “And what do you surmise that to be?”

“You wanted Thomas back. You _still_ want Thomas back. You’ll _always_ want Thomas back.”

Flint’s eyes are painful to see, the whispering shadowy rage and grief twists within his soul, glaring back at Silver with dark intent. “Whatever you’re doing, please stop…”

“I can give you that.” Silver tells him. “I can take you to him.”

_“Please.”_

“He’s alive, damnit.” Silver says. When Flint just stares at him, he sighs. “I should have said that sooner.”

“What are you talking about?” Flint’s exhaustion has deepened rapidly within the last three minutes. He looks as though he’s been carrying the weight of the world for a thousand years and it won't leave his back.

“He’s alive. In Savannah.”

Flint pushes himself to his feet and Silver reaches for his pistol just in case.

“Stop fucking talking.”

“He’s alive. If you could have your heart’s desire.” Silver’s abandoned his crutch. He’s leaning forward, trying to get Flint to listen to him. If Flint would only listen. “I give you my word.”

“Your word.” Flint repeats. “You tell me this cruel fiction and expect me to believe it.” His eyes narrow murderously.

“No, I don't expect you to believe it.” Silver says hoarsely. “I expected... you to trust me enough to _hope_ it’s true.”

“Trust.” Flint’s disgust mangles the word. “After you said what's between us is broken and, and that I was simply attempting to placate you?”

“And you said we _were_ repairable.” Silver retorts. He hears the _we_ too late to snatch it back. Flint hadn't said it like that, but that's how he had heard it. They work best when it's the two of them side by side, partners. _We._ He doesn't say anything more. 

They glare at each other, and then Flint looks away, his jaw tight.

Silver waits, but Flint’s gone, silent and dark and far beyond his reach.

 *  *  * 

Hours pass. Eventually Hands comes to the edge of the clearing again and again Silver speaks to him quietly. “I told you to wait. I’ll call for you when I’m ready.”

Hands looks over his shoulder at Flint. “If he’s not moved in a few hours…”

“You will do nothing without my order.” Silver hisses. He takes the water skin Hands has and sends him back to the others.

He takes a long needed swig of water, letting it course down his dry throat. Then he looks to see Flint watching him. Silver holds up the skin.

Flint’s eyelids close almost nearly all the way. Then he holds out a hand.

Silver waits and then when Flint doesn’t move, doesn’t open his eyes, he sighs and goes over to him. He holds it out, well aware of the closeness between them, of the distance.

Flint takes the skin and then his hand is on Silver’s wrist. And Silver looks down into alert green eyes as Flint pushes him off-balance. He falls to the ground and Flint’s on him, pressing him into the ground. Silver fumbles for his pistol as Flint grabs for it and they roll and grapple across the clearing. They came to a stop amongst the leaves with Flint straddling him.

Silver has his pistol to the side of Flint’s head and then Flint leans down, letting Silver feel his weight and Silver's breath comes in shallow pants as he realizes Flint’s got his dagger pointed low at his belly. With each breath he draws, Silver can feel the point pressing into his skin through his shirt.

“Why did you do that?” Flint demands, his voice harsh. “You _know_ how much Thomas means to me. You know…” His voice breaks and Silver sees the grief in his eyes, the tears barely being held back.

“I do.” He whispers. “I know that and I…”

The dagger presses harder and Silver sucks in another breath. It would be so easy for Flint to kill him.

“I told you, I didn’t expect you to believe me, I expected you to trust me to hope it’s true.” He lowers the pistol to the ground.

Flint just stares at him.

Silver waits and then. “Ask me.”

“What?”

“Ask the question you want to ask.”

Flint’s face tightens and then as he gazes down at Silver, he makes up his mind. “How do you know?”

“I sent a man to Savannah.” Silver says. “There’s a plantation there where the unwanted members of society are sent to live out their days, to essentially disappear.” He licks his lips. “My man returned and he told me that my assumption had been correct. That the man I sought was alive and well.”

Flint’s still just staring at him. “You…”

“I would lie to make you give up the war. I would, if it would work. But this, I wouldn’t lie about this, not about Thomas.”

He starts to cry out as Flint’s dagger breaks skin and then Flint’s hand is on his mouth, muffling his cry. Silver pants against his palm, feeling the warmth of Flint’s skin against his mouth. The prick of the dagger cut stings his chest, faint droplets of blood staining his shirt.

And then Flint heaves off him and sits back, staring at the sky.

“Please.” Silver whispers. “Can you trust me? For a few more days?”

Flint closes his eyes. He’s still holding the dagger and Silver glances sideways at where he left the pistol. He could reach it.

He won’t kill Flint. He won’t. He can't. 

He leaves it lying in the leaves.

Flint shudders heavily, his shoulders trembling and then he looks down at the dagger slowly before tucking it back in his boot.

“All right.”

Silver waits for whatever will happen next, whatever argument Flint will use next to stay here in this spot where they don’t have to move further apart than they already are. What he will say in return. It takes him a moment to hear what Flint said.

“I’m sorry, did you just agree?”

“I don’t believe you.” Flint’s voice is desolate as a grave. He pushes himself up and looks down at Silver for what feels like an eternity. And then he holds out his hand. “But I do trust you.”

Silver lets Flint pull him to his feet, and Flint steadies him while he finds his balance.

“I promise-”

“Don’t.” Flint says. “You don’t need to say anything more.”

“I want you to understand.” Silver falters and Flint looks in his eyes.

“I know.” It’s all Flint says and then looks away. “…just lead the way.”

Silver pauses and then he reaches for his crutch. He moves slowly down the path, heading towards the open sea and the promise waiting in Savannah, Flint one step behind him all the way.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Shadows of Compromise [PODFIC]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13718160) by [Magnetism_bind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind), [ponytailflint (inkgeek)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkgeek/pseuds/ponytailflint)




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